Good Karma (58 page)

“Life is about getting hurt, Mark. Without
pain, we don’t grow. But in your case, you shut down. You’re still
shut down. You’ve let Carol completely derail you. It’s like she’s
still fucking you over six years later. Pick up your sorry ass,
dust yourself off, and let yourself be happy again. Don’t you think
you deserve to be happy?” Rob held up his hand. “Oh wait, that’s
right, you’ve planned
not
to be happy so there’s no way you
could possibly let yourself deviate from your plan because then you
would have to create a whole new schedule for the rest of your
life. One that actually includes things like happiness and hope. My
bad.”

It was the most Rob had ever said about Carol
at one time in six years, and it was the only time he had ever
dared encroach on Mark’s personal life in such an in-your-face way.
“Shit, Rob, why don’t you tell me how you really feel.” Mark looked
away and downed a heavy swig of beer.

“Man, you need to get out of your own way and
give yourself an out clause from this self-imposed contract of
yours.” Rob looked over his shoulder toward Holly. “Life is not a
contract we negotiate with ourselves. You and I both swore we would
never get married, and now look at me.” He grinned as Holly whacked
the volleyball out of bounds and started laughing at herself. “Only
three weeks in, and I’m ready to pop the question. I can’t see my
life without her. Is that crazy or what?”

Mark scowled from Rob to Holly and back.
“Yes, it is. And I’m not you. So drop it.” This conversation needed
to end. Now. Before Mark lost his mind, got in his car, and drove
back to Indy so he could see
her
again. His Karma.

Rob held his arms up in surrender. “Fine. But
Mark, maybe it’s time you grabbed on and didn’t let go.” Knowing
eyes penetrated him to his soul. “That’s all I’m saying, man. Maybe
it’s time to make some new promises and throw out the old ones that
no longer serve you…draw up a new contract with your soul.”

Rob returned his attention to the grill
without another word. Conversation over. Thank God.

Mark wandered to the fence, away from the
crowd, where he leaned against it and hung his beer over the other
side. From his vantage point, he could just see beyond the houses
to Lake Michigan. A yacht trolled slowly along the blue
surface.

If only he were on that boat. With Karma.
Just the two of them. Then he wouldn’t feel so damn lonely.

Chapter 49

Worry is
like a rocking chair. It gives you something to do but gets you
nowhere.

-Erma Bombeck

Monday morning, Mark stood on his balcony, drinking
coffee, gazing at the red sunrise.
Red skies in the morning,
sailor take warning.

Karma was supposed to go fishing with her dad
today. Hopefully, they would have good weather.

Mark took out his phone and tapped out a
message.
What are you doing?

A minute later, his phone chimed. He smiled
as he opened the message.
Good timing. I was just sitting here
thinking about you.
She had attached a picture of a lake.

Another message chimed in from her.
What
are YOU doing? :-)

He smiled, lifted his phone, and took a
picture of Lake Michigan and the sunrise.
Funny. I was just
thinking about you, too,
he typed, attaching the picture.

Her next message warmed his heart.
Jinx.
Buy me a Coke. We’re both looking at water and thinking about the
other. Why do I suddenly have to pee?

LOL. Clever girl. Good to see you’re
comfortable enough to discuss bodily functions with me, though.

Ew. LOL.

You started it.

I know, and now I’m ending it.

Are you enjoying your day off with your
dad?

Yes, but I miss my “teacher.” I had a good
time with him this weekend.

Mark’s brow quirked, and he grinned.
Your
teacher? Maybe I can meet him sometime.

I’ll ask him, but don’t get your hopes up.
He’s kind of private. Likes to keep me to himself.

Smart man.

Eh, he’s a’ight.

He laughed.
Just a’ight?
he typed.

LOL. Okay, so maybe I lied. But I don’t want
to bruise your ego.

No. Please. Bruise me. Tell me about
him.
He was having too much fun with this conversation. As he
always did when he and Karma texted.

You’re incorrigible.

And you’re stalling.

Guilty.

Are you not going to answer my question,
Miss Mason?

Oooo…you’re using your teaching voice.

If that’s what it takes to get you to spill,
then yes I am.

He waited for what felt like an hour but was
only a couple of minutes, and then his phone chimed again.

Fine. Be that way. It’s your ego. If you must know,
my teacher is to other men like a warm, chocolate chunk brownie
swimming in hot fudge, with marshmallows, and drizzled with warm
caramel is to a bite of milk chocolate. Both are nice, but one
makes me moan and gives me goose bumps when he enters a room, while
the other just makes me smile. And sometimes the other doesn’t even
do that. My teacher makes me feel beautiful, and he has shown me
things I’ve only imagined, and for however long I have with him, I
will be eternally grateful for all he has given me.

Speechless. She had rendered him speechless.
For at least a minute, he could only stare at his phone and re-read
her message, until finally he lifted his face against the wind and
rubbed his palm and fingers over his pursed mouth as he stared out
over the lake. Another crack formed in the wall around his heart,
and he took a deep, shaking breath.

After a long moment when his emotions churned
and threatened to overwhelm him, he typed out his reply.

I’m sure I can speak for him when I say that you are
truly a remarkable, stunning, and glorious woman. Be assured, you
bring out the best in him, as well. And wherever he is right now, I
bet he’s wishing he was with you instead, so he could thank you for
your kind words in person.

He leaned against his banister and gazed out
at the blue expanse of the lake, at the red sunlight reflecting off
the waves that rolled and rippled toward the shore.

When his phone chimed, he eagerly read her
message.

I hear he’s standing on a balcony, somewhere in
Chicago, looking at Lake Michigan.

And there came another crack in his armor,
and his heart melted a little bit more. What was happening to
him?

I miss you.
His thumb hovered over the
send button, but when he re-read what he had written, he frowned.
He couldn’t send that. Not
that
message. It was all wrong.
But felt so damn right. But if he went down that road, it would
lead him away from the control he coveted and longed to retain,
putting it right back in her hands.

This relationship wasn’t about love and
emotion, or commitment, or missing her, or of anything permanent.
To tell her he missed her would only set them both up for
inevitable pain. Well, more pain than what they would both already
feel when he said good-bye.

He backspaced the message and started
over.

And I hear he is very much looking forward to seeing
you again.

That was much better. The personal component
was gone, and he was still telling the truth. He hit the send
button.

Me, too,
came her reply.

His breath caught, and suddenly, all he
wanted was for her to be there, with him as she had been this
weekend, both of them looking out at the lake, his arms around her
waist and his nose buried in her hair.

I’ll see you soon. I have to run. Some of
us have to work today. Enjoy the rest of your day off.
He set
the phone on the small patio table and sat in his lounge chair in
his sweats and T-shirt, one arm crossed over his torso, his other
hand pressed to his chin.

When his phone chimed, he glanced over and
read the message.

Work hard. Talk to you soon.

He closed his eyes and leaned back. His
apartment already felt desolate without her. After just a couple of
days, she had completely invaded his space. He couldn’t look around
his apartment and see one place that didn’t remind him of her. He
didn’t even want to wash the shirt she had worn, which still held a
touch of her scent.

This assignment needed to end. And soon.
Because he was becoming emotionally compromised with this one. From
a rational perspective, he needed to pull back, but every time he
tried, he found himself drawn further in.

And he had no idea how to stop the train from
careening off the tracks.

Karma tucked her phone into her hip bag.

“What are you smiling about?” her dad asked,
coming back from his truck and dropping their tackle boxes beside
her on the bank.

“Nothing.” But she couldn’t wipe the goofy
grin off her face. If anything, it got bigger. And for the cherry
on top, her face heated.

“I saw you over here on your phone.” He
frowned. “Were you talking to that
boy
? Mike or Mark or
whatever his name is?”

“Mark,” she said. “And yes. I was.” She
busied herself with her tackle box.

“Is that where you were this weekend?” He
began loading the boat. “Why you didn’t come over?”

She sighed and stood, fishing pole in hand.
“Yes, Dad. I went up to Chicago to see him.”

He shook his head but didn’t say anything as
he checked the truck, locked it, and waited for her to climb into
the boat. He got in, used one of the oars to push them away from
the bank, and started rowing through the water. She wiped
perspiration from her forehead. A humid mist clung to the water’s
surface.

“I don’t like you with that boy,” Dad
said.

Tell me something I don’t know.

“He’s not a boy, Dad. He’s a man.”

“He’s a boy to me.” He continued rowing them
to their favorite spot. “A man wouldn’t behave the way he is. And
don’t tell me you think he’s going to stick around when his job
here is done.”

“I don’t think that.” She stared ahead,
refusing to meet her dad’s eye. Knowing that Mark would leave soon
was bad enough. She didn’t need her dad rubbing salt in the
wound.

“What you need is some smart fella who’ll
treat you right and not skip out when he’s done using you.”

“Dad!” She spun around and scowled at him.
“Mark is not
using
me, and he’s not going to
skip out
on me, either. He’s good to me, and I like him, okay?” She turned
back around, her good mood of a few minutes ago spoiled like
month-old milk.

“Honey, if he was really good to you, he
wouldn’t be doing what he’s doing.” The oars dipped into the water
and gurgled as he rowed. “Nice boys don’t mess around with the
girls they work with.”

Were they still having this conversation?

“Maybe when you were younger that was how
things were done, Dad, but that’s not how it is, anymore. More and
more people meet their spouses at work now. It’s a proven fact.”
She crossed her arms and kept her gaze straight ahead on the misty
water.

“Yeah, and look at how many people end up
getting divorced.” Dad harrumphed. “I’ll stick with the old
ways.”

“Are we really going to spend the day talking
about this?” She shot him a glare. “I thought we were going to
spend a nice day together.”

“We are.” Dad shrugged innocently. “I’m just
looking out for my little girl is all.”

“Well, stop it. I’ve got this, Dad. Trust
me.”

And she wasn’t a little girl, anymore,
either. She needed her dad to get on board with that idea
immediately. Mark was
her
problem, not her dad’s, and she
could handle him without her dad’s help.

The thing was after this past weekend, Mark
was an even bigger complication than before, because she had
finally realized she was, in fact, in love. Hopelessly,
unbelievably, and irrevocably in love. But, like it or not, Mark
was going to leave.

And therein lay the biggest problem of
all.

Chapter 50

I think
that sexuality is only attractive when it’s natural and
spontaneous.

-Marilyn Monroe

More than half the office was out on vacation for
the week after the Fourth of July.

When Karma returned to work on Tuesday
morning, she sat in a veritable ghost town. Don was out. Jolene was
out. Lisa was out. All but two members of Sales and Marketing were
out. A quick trip through the war room, where the project teams
worked when they were in the office, revealed that only Jasper and
Courtney were working in the office this week. The rest who hadn’t
taken time off were working from home.

Karma meandered back to her desk. As she
passed the conference room, she flicked a despondent glance at the
empty chair where Mark usually sat when he was there.

But he wasn’t this week.

He, too, had taken the week to work from
Chicago and finish getting his affairs in order after the
break-in.

Tuesday remained quiet all day. She made
major headway on the upcoming quarterly presentation, but by the
end of the day, she actually got a little bored. With no one in the
office, the workload was lighter than she thought it would be.

Wednesday was more of the same, and by the
end of the day, she was finished with the presentation and had
cleaned out her files, her e-mail, and had played with some ideas
for a new presentation template for October’s quarterlies.

On Thursday morning, she stopped at the store
and bought a smattering of magazines,
The New York Times
,
and the local newspaper before heading in to the office. She needed
something to keep her mind busy, and since she was all caught up—a
rarity to be sure—having some reading material on hand was a
must.